


Pre-Absence: Dark Hallows' Eve

by Ciule



Series: Absence [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Magic, Dark Magic Rituals (Harry Potter), F/M, Hogwarts Astronomy Tower, Hogwarts Chamber of Secrets, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Knights of Walpurgis, POV Voldemort (Harry Potter), Ritual Public Sex, Rituals, Sacrifice, Slytherin Pride, Tom Riddle is His Own Warning, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27215650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ciule/pseuds/Ciule
Summary: It was a perfect night to open the Chamber of Secrets.At fifteen, Tom Riddle performs a ritual to get access to his inheritance.
Series: Absence [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848328
Comments: 9
Kudos: 35
Collections: Fun or Fright





	Pre-Absence: Dark Hallows' Eve

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: I tagged this as ‘Tom Riddle is his own warning’. Really, I mean it. This isn’t a romance, but a story about a callous young sociopath achieving his goals. 
> 
> The story can be read as a oneshot, but also as a prequel to my story ‘Absence’. This is a scene mentioned in that story, which I really wanted to write. What can I say? I love writing rituals. *grins*

**31 October 1942  
**

* * *

Voldemort took a deep breath of the deep, musty underground air. He was finally here, having solved Salazar’s secret. _The Chamber of Secrets was his_. The enormous, circular door clanked, as the serpents guarding the entrance responded to his hissed command: “Open.” 

Stepping down into the deep darkness beyond, his school robe snagging on the rough surface of the threshold, he merely blinked as torches with a whisper of magic came to light around the vast Chamber. 

A row of great, grey stone serpent heads framed the rectangular room, the roof so high, it was dissolving into shadows, and… by the end, a grand statue of his forefather. _Yes, Salazar would know how to greet his true heir. Voldemort wasn’t a mere Half-blood, he hailed from the truest, most powerful line of wizards._

Swallowing, he felt proud as his steps rang through the emptiness, like a conquering king coming to take his kingdom. _He had worked hard for this. And now, not yet sixteen years old, he had finally fulfilled what the Sorting Hat had whispered to him on his first night at Hogwarts._

Xxxx

Entering the Great Hall on 1 September in 1938 had been nothing short of _magical._ Never had he seen such a marvellous sight, never had he seen so many wizards and witches, not even on his numerous visits to Diagon Alley during the summer before starting Hogwarts. _Though he had no money, only one trip hadn’t been enough, never in a lifetime._ But Hogwarts seemed to be so much better, a place fit for him, a place where he could be the best, a place where he could … find _everything_ he yearned for. 

He had waited for a long time, the line in front of him becoming steadily shorter as people were Sorted left and right, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. _He didn’t care much, though he felt an attraction to the snake symbol of Slytherin. Snakes seemed to like him._

Finally, it had been his turn. 

_“You…” the Hat had mused, becoming silent and thoughtful._

_“What about me?” he had asked, with all his eleven-year old cockiness._

_“Such a legacy, such a pride, and what a brilliant mind,” the Hat had muttered to itself._

_At first he had merely preened by the praise, before he caught on. A burning curiosity, his most desperate, deepest hope swelled up. “Legacy? What legacy? Do you know anything about my family? Were they … wizards?”_

_“Oh indeed, your line is amongst the elder families, spanning more than a thousand years. You will, I believe, show yourself as the true heir to your forefather.”_

_Underneath the old ratty Hat, he could feel his cheeks glowing. It was validation, that’s what it was. He was_ **_someone_** _, someone_ **_important_** _, someone who’d deserve respect and to be treated as_ **_special_** _. With a contented sigh, he asked: “Who was he?”_

_“Oh,” the Hat said slyly, “you’ll see.”_

_To his shock, the Hat had suddenly bellowed **"SLYTHERIN!"**_ _so loud he couldn’t help wincing, and it chuckled as Albus Dumbledore ripped the Hat off his head before he could get any more answers._

_He hadn’t understood until much later that the sneaky old thing had answered his question._

  
  


Xxxx

Earlier this night - _on_ _Samhain, the night of the dead_ \- he had completed the ritual that gave him a magical pointer to the Chamber. It took place well in the night after the school’s Halloween feast. As always the Great Hall had been decked out with giant pumpkins, a sumptuous meal and grinning fools. _By rights, the school should have celebrated Samhain, not Halloween, if Dippet and and his cohorts of Muggle-loving teachers had any sense of wizarding pride and propriety. Samhain was a ritual of death, not an occasion to satisfy one’s gluttony._

In preparing the ritual, his Knights had served him fairly well, but for one near mistake. They had hauled the sacrificial centaur up to the top of the Astronomy tower, but Edmund Rosier, that _bloody_ fool, had dropped the Levitating Charm, and only Voldemort’s fast reaction in whipping out his wand had saved the centaur from dropping down the stairs. 

The result would have been disastrous. They might have been caught, a teacher coming to investigate the racket, or the centaur might have died. If so, he’d have to catch another, and to be frank, that had been a difficult business, wily things they were. 

Edmund had it coming, shrieking silently underneath his wand, as Voldemort stretched the Cruciatus to its limits. _Come to think of it, he’d have to test that one day. How long did one have to be under the curse before dying? It would be an interesting experiment._

On the top of the Astronomy Tower, his newly minted Knight Walburga Black waited, her adoring, simpering smile plastered to her pretty face. The girl was so very annoying, but her blood - _her Pure virgin blood_ \- was just perfect for this ritual. _She would fulfill a very special role tonight._

Slinging his arm around her waist, he had kissed her before asking her: “Are you sure that you’ll do this for me? I’m ... honoured.“ 

Smiling down into the girl’s pretty green eyes, making sure there was a tender look on his own face, he could feel her nervousness as a palpable thing. She was fifteen, just like him, and he had made sure she was absolutely _besotted._ Now, he finally saw the end of this … _despicable_ … boyfriend act. _He needed her willing, or else he’d never have bothered with all this .. nonsense._

Swallowing, the girl said in a breathy voice, pretty lips pouting: “Anything for you, Tom, absolutely anything.” 

“Oh, aren’t you … adorable,” he muttered, kissing her hair. Letting his eyes crawl down her body, he couldn’t decide if he wanted her to be wet and wanton or afraid. Both would be delicious. _At least, she’d be afraid when it was over._

He smiled grimly over her hair, meeting Abraxas’ eyes. The Malfoy heir’s nod told him that he was ready to pick up the devastated witch afterwards _. Voldemort couldn’t really care less if Abraxas took advantage of his own cousin in a vulnerable position, though he suspected that might happen._

The Knights had placed the Stunned centaur in the middle of the rooftop platform, the crenellated battlements making strange shadows contrasting with the bright light from the waning moon. The October wind was cold, gusts travelling over the tower top, making the dark robes of his Knights swirl and billow around them. 

Kissing Walburga’s hair, his cock twitching by the thought of fucking her brutally in front of everyone, turning the prissy little Pure-blood into a public whore, he readied himself for the ritual. 

“Be quiet,” he said, voice low, but the Knights immediately obeyed his command, moving to their places in a circle around the centaur. 

Taking a deep breath, closing his eyes, the wind lashing his face harshly, like Hogwarts itself was protesting his actions, he gathered his magic, feeling it well from that secret place inside himself, like lava bubbling forth, slow, inevitable and deadly, mists trailing as the scorching hot power met the icy cold of his rational mind. 

Shaping the magic, he raised his wand, slashing deep cuts into the soft fur of the centaur, making long gashes appear, red blood welling forth. His wand coaxed the drops of blood up in the air, and he weaved red runes, like the air itself was his blackboard, imbuing them with his power. 

“ _Othala_ ” - the rune for heritage bloomed into the air, like a dead, wizened rose, the colour of dried blood. 

Next, he traced “ _Kaunaz,"_ making death and fire emerge, flickering in the wind like the flame it represented. 

Sliding in place came the wisdom rune of Odin, “ _Ansuz,”_ fluttering like the moving branches of a tree. 

The Norse god of wisdom, Odin, had hanged himself to gain knowledge. _Such a sacrifice, to put everything on the line for power, just like Voldemort wanted to do. Oh, he couldn’t help feeling proud of himself. He could become … godlike, if he was willing to do what it took._

 _“Gebo,”_ the gift, was the last one, the fiery red X hanging there like a symbol of finality, and he was ready - _ready to cast the first Killing Curse of his life._

Filling his lungs, he pointed his wand at the centaur, now stirring slowly, the Stunner weakening as the loss of blood became more prominent, deep dark stains seeping into the cracks between the flagstones. 

“ _Avada Kedavra_!” Green light exploded from his wand, and the Knights gasped as one, someone muttering an awed oath, though they were prepared for this - and yet, he couldn’t care about them, not now, because green wildfire was running rampant inside him, torching his very being, making him feel so alive, so powerful, taking a life, extinguishing someone’s life force, forcing them through the Veil by his power, and it was glorious, his magic flaring up, erupting like a volcano, laying everything dead and waste in his wake. 

Breathing deeply, he saw the blood runes glow with a sinister red from within, fed to life by the centaur’s death. Directing them with his wand to a perfect circle around the sacrificed centaur, he turned to the last sacrifice of the evening. 

“Undress, Knight, to serve your Lord,” he said to Walburga, his voice almost unrecognizable, almost a growl. 

The girl paled, dark hair contrasting against her pale face, before she bit her lip, opening her robe, revealing herself as naked beneath. 

Voldemort felt something … _primal_... well up, something different from all the other quick releases he had with the numerous girls warming his cock, and he yanked his trousers open, not bothering with undressing at all, his cock hard and ready to plunder this witchling. 

Tracing to two last runes in the air, letting them hang there for now, pale and shimmering: “ _Ingwaz”_ for masculinity, and “ _Peorth,”_ the rune for females and sex, he grated to the girl: “Bend over.” 

Shivering in the cold wind, Walburga slowly leaned forward, subservient, supporting her hands on her thighs, her long dark hair trailing down to the stone floor. The Knights leaned forward, eyes hungry and greedy, a few even palming their own cocks. 

Voldemort moved in, gripping her hips harshly, using one hand to press her back lower, before guiding his throbbing cock to the girl’s virgin cunt. 

There was no wetness here, just delicious, mind-numbing fear, and he groaned, feeling it prickle like a sharp tang on his tongue, and then his cock made contact with her hole. 

Grimly, he lined up, lips drawn back from his teeth, and thrust inside her with a grunt. A muffled, but pained shriek came from Walburga, and she tensed up, legs quivering, but he was relentless, fucking her quickly and roughly, giving her no time to adjust to him. _He knew he was rather big, and the virgins usually had a hard time with him, but it was so good, the fire of the Avada still burning in him._

Walburga whined softly, a keening noise of pain that made him fuck her even faster, and much too quickly for his liking, he felt his balls harden, lift, and the familiar tingling came rushing down his spine, blooming in his cock like an explosion, making him drive even harder into the tight pussy, before he groaned, spilling himself in her, fucking her through his orgasm, filling her up as ecstacy tore through him. 

Panting for a moment, he leaned over her back, listening to the small sobs wracking her chest, savouring her pain. Around them, the Knights were breathing harshly. 

Pulling out made her wince, but he took no notice. He was ready with his wand, making blood and semen trail out of her abused cunt into a small string, before he pushed it into the two runes for male and female, activating them, making a blood-red fire run through the circle of runes, blazing incandescent with the sacrificial power. 

As one, the Knights chanted with him, even Walburga chimed in, her voice but a sniffle: “ _Prodavus magicae, ostende mihi, dirige me, hereditatem meam mihi.”_

Flaring up, the runes merged, before they slammed into him, making him double up, his body swallowing the fiery magic as he gasped with the sharp, delicious pain of power. 

And like that, it was done, and he could literally feel the arrow inside, pointing him downstairs, to the Chamber of Secrets, a true and straight path. 

Mechanically, so occupied with the pull inside, he tucked himself back in, giving Walburga a shove in the back, sending her stumbling into Abraxas’ arms, before issuing his final command for the evening to his Knights: “Clean up the mess.” 

_Where he was going now, to claim his inheritance, they would not follow. This Samhain, anything that was good and pure would be hidden, defiled, in the darkness he had created. Killing an innocent being, violating a maiden for his own gain. Oh, it was a dark Hallows' Eve indeed, worthy of the true rites of Samhain, worthy of the Heir._

**Author's Note:**

> Going to add this to the 'Absence' series as a *Pre-Absence'-story. 
> 
> Yes, that means it will be more... There's one more sitting in my head on what happened before Hermione came along.


End file.
